


win-win situation (or, oral fixation)

by wouldyouknowmore



Series: Uncle Loki [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Deepthroating, Incest, M/M, misuse of fruit, uncle loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldyouknowmore/pseuds/wouldyouknowmore
Summary: See, if Loki would just texthim, he wouldn’t be in this conundrum. And maybe his uncle not reaching out for almost a full week wouldn’t be that weird or abnormal if not for the fact that—and Thor cannot stress this enough—Loki had fucked him senseless on Saturday.A horny follow up tofixation, wherein Thor's still got it bad for his uncle and resolves to do something about it. Again.





	win-win situation (or, oral fixation)

**Author's Note:**

> Please read [fixation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698262) before this one 👍
> 
> All my gratitude and love to Wendy, the best good girl without whom I am nothing, who offered several very good and ridiculous banana-themed titles for this and did not coerce me into saying anything about how much I love her.
> 
> (ilu)

On Monday, Thor gets called out in the middle of English class for not paying attention. 

On Tuesday, at football practice, he’s tackled out of nowhere hard enough that he isn’t quite sure what happened. His coach shouts at him for five minutes, asking where his head is.

On Thursday, Thor is given detention and has his phone confiscated. His argument that he hadn’t _actually_ been texting is ignored, but it seems that proving this is a losing battle, especially when he’d sat there for a good half an hour prior to being caught typing out variations on a theme before deleting each and every one before they could be sent. The teacher makes note of how unusual Thor’s behavior has been this week, and recommends he correct it before it gets any further out of hand… but honestly, Thor’s uncle had fucked him senseless on Saturday, and he doesn’t really give a shit about physics at the moment. 

Friday morning detention is served with all due penitence, and Thor is more careful with his not-texting the rest of the day, though he’s no more successful in coming up with something worth sending. He’d tried every version of _hey what are you doing_ that he can think of, thrown in a few _i had fun the other day_ s and thrown them out just as quickly, and had come dangerously close to accidentally tapping the _send_ button with nothing typed but “ 🍆👀❓ ” at one point. But nothing seemed to say _please rim me within an inch of my life again at your earliest convenience_ like he really wanted it to and in such a way as to make such a thing likely to occur, and so he’d sent nothing.

See, if Loki would just text _him_ , he wouldn’t be in this conundrum. And maybe his uncle not reaching out for almost a full week wouldn’t be that weird or abnormal if not for the fact that—and Thor cannot stress this enough— _Loki had fucked him senseless on Saturday_. 

It’s a big thing, right? It had certainly felt like it at the time (literally and figuratively), but Loki hasn’t said anything about anything, and Thor can’t think of anything to say himself, and he can’t even concentrate on anything else in his daily life because he’s too busy replaying every moment of Loki’s hands and his mouth on him last week in his head, remembering the way Loki had kissed him for ages afterward and drove him home aching in all the best ways and gave him one last promise-laden look in the driveway before Thor had reluctantly gotten out. How is he supposed to function like this? He can’t sleep, he’s behind on homework, he’s jerking off more than he ever has in his life, and Loki has said _nothing_. Nothing at all. 

There’s a protocol here, he knows there must be. … Okay, maybe not for _this_ particular situation, but there are understood rules of engagement after casual romantic encounters wherein both parties are inclined for a repeat performance, right? Or something like that. Loki probably should have said something by now. He’s pretty sure. 

“Borson, the bell rang five minutes ago,” Coach Carter suddenly says, leaving Thor jumping in his seat. “Kindly get your arse out of my classroom, please.”

Sure enough, it’s after 3:00, and he stammers out an apology on his way out the door. Under normal circumstances he would have been out the first moment he could, but then again, these are not at all normal circumstances. He thinks he’s allowed to be a little distracted. 

Thor doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with himself anyway. It’s the weekend, but he’d turned down any and all plans proposed to him just in case he found himself otherwise occupied, but now that’s looking less and less likely… And he’s learned his lesson that being at home alone with his thoughts has not been the best idea as of late. He can still smell banana at odd, inconvenient times after a minor mishap yesterday evening—which, honestly, he can’t have been the only person to have tested out his gag reflex in such a way, he’s certain. It’s just, he wanted to be prepared just in case things went a certain way, alright? He’d been doing just fine with the biggest one he could track down, too (still not as big as Loki’s dick, but hey, he had to start somewhere), until Frigga had knocked on the door unexpectedly and his choking had forced mushy banana out his nose. 

He doesn’t linger on that, though. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, anyway. 

But speaking of… his last bold move had turned out pretty well, hadn’t it? 

Maybe that’s the thing. Maybe Loki is waiting on _him_. He’d done the initiating the first time around, after all. And if he’s being rational about all this, he’s sort of put his uncle in an awkward position (which doesn’t really bear considering too closely—nope, not thinking about the potential consequences of all this, no thank you), so maybe he just needs to initiate again.

All of this sounds very good and very reasonable all the way across town, up until the split second after he rings Loki’s doorbell, and he realizes that he hasn’t spoken to Loki at all since last weekend, and therefore hasn’t announced himself, and that despite all his (extensive) fantasizing about how their next meeting would play out, he doesn’t have the first fucking clue what to expect here. 

He could have realized this _before_ ringing the doorbell. That isn’t lost on him. 

But he can hear footsteps on the other side of the door, and it’s too late for him to make a run for it—and then Loki is standing there, long and lean and gorgeous and— _fuck_ , that had eaten Thor out for half an hour last week, and he’s suddenly forgotten how to speak.

“Thor,” Loki says, expression inscrutable (the absolute asshole).

“Hey, uh… are you busy?”

Loki does not hesitate before answering, “Yes.”

Oh, good. 

Now would be the perfect time to run screaming, Thor decides, but before he can, Loki huffs out a sigh, opens the door wide, and gestures him in.

“I’ve got a call in just a minute,” he says, following Thor in through the foyer and popping in a pair of AirPods, “but if you want to wait, it shouldn’t take long.” 

Thor’s mumbled _yeah okay_ gets lost somewhere between Loki’s phone ringing and him pointing Thor toward his bedroom as he settles on the couch. 

His bedroom. Loki wants him to wait in the bedroom.

Right.

“Hallå,” he hears Loki say, and the start of a conversation that sounds like Swedish maybe (and god, being multilingual has never struck Thor as hot before, but he’s reevaluating), but then he shuts the door behind him, and it’s just him once again. 

But in Loki’s bedroom. 

Oh boy. 

This is good, though? This is perfect. This is exactly what he wants, for the second time no less, so it seems like he might have a handle on this whole crazy situation after all. And while he _could_ just take a seat in Loki’s armchair and wait for him, he’s got an unbroken record of bold moves paying off here, and it’s got him feeling pretty good about taking a little more initiative. He’s got this.

In half a minute, he’s stripped down to his skin and trying to decide how best to drape himself over Loki’s bed for maximum impact. He settles on something straight out of his humanities teacher’s slideshow on Baroque art from Monday, reclined with his head propped up on an elbow, one knee bent with his foot flat on the mattress and the goods on display. Yeah. That oughta work. 

Now he just has to wait.

…

In another fifteen minutes, though, he’s developed a crick in his neck, and has resorted to scrolling through his Twitter feed to pass the time and keep from overthinking things. He can still hear the low thrum of Loki’s voice from the other room, and he’s starting to wonder how his uncle defines “long.” … Probably pretty long, if previous experience in both matters of time (and uh, other things) is any indication. 

... He suddenly hears footsteps in the hall, though, so maybe not. 

His phone hits the nightstand with a clatter just as the doorknob turns, and by the time the door opens, Thor is back in Baroque mode. Or at least what he hopes is a good approximation of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect—,” Loki starts to say, and then stops in his tracks when he looks up. 

“Hi,” Thor says… and immediately feels _so_ fucking stupid.

Loki stares a moment more, eyes narrowing as he takes in the whole picture.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” he finally says.

“Um. Yep.” 

“And now you’re expecting what, exactly?” 

Despite his unimpressed tone, there’s the tiniest little hint of strain in Loki’s voice, and Thor latches onto it and throws the rest out. He should have known that Loki wouldn’t jump him right away. And he’s pretty sure that whole restraint thing makes him about fifty times hotter anyway, which is unfair, frankly. Just having Loki’s eyes on him now is enough to get his cock stirring already. 

Remembering how Loki seems to like things spelled out, Thor does his best to keep from tripping over his words as he says, “To be fucked. Please.”

Loki nods once and purses his lips. “Of course you are,” he says—but wait, does he sound distinctly irritated? Thor holds his breath when Loki crosses his arms. Shit. “Of course, because getting your way once has led you to believe that you can turn up here anytime you like and get whatever you want.”

… Okay, maybe Thor can see where he’s coming from. 

“I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. Now get in the floor, on your knees.”

Thor lays there gaping a little longer than he probably should, but he doesn’t know why Loki thinks he can say shit like that and not cause Thor’s brain to short-circuit. His delay gives Loki the opportunity to take a seat in his armchair however, legs spread wide, and oh _shit_ —Thor scrambles to comply, climbing straight off the bed and into the floor and maybe doing a little overenthusiastic, ridiculous scooting until he’s in place between Loki’s knees. 

Loki opens his mouth, and Thor prays for a _good boy_ , but no such luck yet. “I will not be fucking you,” he says, which is even worse than the lack of praise, “not today,” ( _ha!_ ) “but if you can straighten out that entitled little attitude of yours, perhaps we can do something about _that_.” 

He looks downward, eyebrow raised at Thor’s very interested dick, already hard and throbbing, and Thor nods eagerly. A _please_ is at the tip of his tongue, to be followed by what, he has no idea, but he keeps it to himself for the moment. There’s a noticeable bulge in Loki’s stupidly tight trousers, and he’s not doing anything that will compromise him getting more up close and personal with it. 

“Are you going to drop in unannounced again?”

Thor shakes his head and says, “No.” 

(He will text five minutes ahead of time instead.)

“Then do as I say, and I’ll let you off easy.”

Anything—as long as it doesn’t involve getting dressed and leaving like their first go-around.

Loki unfastens his belt, opens his fly, and Thor is already drooling just at the sight of that cock straining against his boxer briefs. He may not be the world’s best at this, but by god, he’s gonna make up for his lack of experience with wholehearted enthusiasm. And when Loki pushes his underwear just far enough out of the way to be getting on with, and the full length of him bounces free, Thor doesn’t even realize he’s licked his lips until Loki makes a very quiet, almost pained little noise above him. But fuck, the little glimpse Thor had had last week didn’t really do Loki justice… His cock is as long and shapely as the rest of him, thicker than Thor remembered, a few shades darker than the pale skin of his stomach where his shirt is pushed up, and ever so slightly curved with a little glint of wetness at the tip that he only _just_ keeps from diving forward to taste immediately. That had been in his ass, Thor thinks, amazed. All of it. 

He realizes now that he should have found a bigger banana.

A quick glance up to Loki’s face isn’t quite fast enough to appreciate the split second’s worth of undisguised want Thor is _sure_ was there before Loki is all cool and unaffected again. But maybe he can coax a little more of that out…? The idea of seeing Loki as hot and bothered and desperate as Thor had been last time (and is rapidly approaching now) has been one of the most effective aids in getting himself off this past week, and if he can make that happen here, he may actually combust.

He’s supposed to be doing as he’s told, though, and Loki has said nothing yet, so Thor resettles himself on the rug (tasteful fur, tickling at his ankles) and waits.

“We’re going to take our time, I think,” Loki says after a moment. “Start slowly. Have you done this before?”

Thor nods, feeling his face heat up. (The first time, he’d been drunk and Fandral seemed willing enough, until he’d fallen asleep in the middle of it. A couple attempts with Steve had been more successful, though that hadn’t lasted long once his old boyfriend had moved into town.)

But Loki does not ask for details, thankfully. He just slides a little further down in his chair, widens his legs, and gives Thor a nod. 

“Slow,” he repeats.

Okay then. Deep breath. 

Loki’s thighs are warm and distractingly firm beneath those pants (damn), but they’ve got nothing on that cock once Thor slides one of his hands up to wrap around it with his heart pounding. God, he can’t believe he gets to do this… His mouth is watering, but he holds off just a minute in favor of giving it a few easy strokes. Slow, Loki said, and he does his best. Loki doesn’t make a sound, just watches him patiently, until the little bead of slick at the tip of his cock spills over and slips down the length of him, cool by the time it reaches Thor’s fingers. 

At that point, it’s more than Thor can resist, and when he leans in to lap it up in a slow swipe of his tongue back up to the slit, Loki sucks in an audible breath. The sound of it is almost as good as the taste of him, salt and bitter tang that shouldn’t actually be that appealing but is very much so, and Thor lets his eyes slide shut, trying not to lose his fucking mind. He can pick up the pace now, right? 

Loki makes no objections when he dives back in, giving the head of Loki’s cock a fair bit of messy attention with the flat of his tongue before he moves a little lower, and then works his way back up. He doesn’t say anything actually, but Thor can see the way his abs clench up every time he tongues at that spot just under the head and hopes that’s a good sign. He’s dying to see what he can fit in his mouth, to find out if Loki will lose some of his control before they’re done here, if he’ll pant and swear and tell Thor how it feels, hold his head still and fuck his mouth maybe, come down his throat—or on his face, and—and fuck it, he can’t wait. Thor wraps his lips around the head and sucks, letting out a little groan himself when he tastes another little burst of precome on his tongue for his efforts. 

“Easy,” Loki warns him. He doesn’t sound so sure of himself, though, and while Thor relishes the waver in his voice, he gives him one more brief suck and reluctantly backs off as he’s told. 

Loki gives him a look that’s more than half threat, but the flush in his cheeks is telling, and Thor is content with it. Or will be for a little while, at least. 

There are fingers in his hair not long after he goes back to kissing and licking and dragging his lips over everything he isn’t working with his hand, and they gently dig in at the nape of his neck, nails scratching at his scalp. Loki’s grip tightens on him a little bit now and then, and Thor makes sure to repeat whatever he’d just done whenever it happens. He’s getting sloppy now, his lips and chin and hand all wet, but he’s growing more and more sure of himself, and god, more and more turned on, too, and the next time he tries to get his mouth around the head, Loki doesn’t stop him. 

“Greedy thing,” is all he says, his voice low and breathless, and Thor gives him a little hum of agreement around his cock. How could he not be? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to him as far as he’s concerned. 

And oh, was that a noise? Thor hums again, just to find out, and not only does he get another groan out of Loki, that hand at the back of his neck tightens its grip, pulling his hair just shy of painful, and Thor lets his eyes roll back in his head because oh god, that’s new but _so_ good, that’s really good. More of that, please. 

He would ask for it if his mouth weren’t full, but he figures getting it fuller might get the message across. 

_“Oh,”_ Loki gasps as Thor’s lips meet his fingers, and the head of Loki’s cock bumps the back of his throat. Thor nearly gags—he didn’t expect that just yet, but god, this dick is _big_ —but he keeps his cool and breathes through his nose, backing off just a little. Loki holds still, but Thor can feel how tense his thigh is under his hand, and— _oh yeah_ —sure enough, Loki gives another tug at his hair that has Thor’s own cock twitching. 

Loki seems to catch on the moment Thor has adjusted, because those fingers gentle and pet at him, soothing at the back of his neck and back up into his hair for a little bit, just before his grip tightens and Thor finds himself being pushed back down. Oh fuck—he holds on tight with his free hand, feels his eyes well up when Loki’s cock is pressing at his throat again, but it only lasts a moment before Loki eases him back. 

“Alright there?” Loki asks with none of the snark that Thor might usually expect of him. That’s actually kind of sweet… So Thor answers by meeting his eyes and sucking at him again, hollowing his cheeks harder than he has yet. 

The look on Loki’s face is an absolute gift. Thor is going treasure the memory of that little surprised “o” that Loki’s mouth makes and how wide his eyes go for the rest of his goddamn life. He did that. He put that there. 

His moment of triumph is short-lived however. The next thing he knows, Loki is pushing him back down, pressing up with his hips at the same time, and Thor lets out a muffled _mmmph!_ but holds on. Oh look, here’s one idle fantasy fulfilled, he thinks stupidly while Loki fucks his mouth this way, holding the back of his head tight with one hand while the other cups his cheek, strangely gentle in contrast, all while Thor’s eyes burn and his jaw starts to ache… but god, he never wants it to end. Let Loki come, just so he can experience that, but only if he picks this back up as soon as humanly possible afterward. 

“Look at you,” Loki pants after a little while, and Thor can only imagine how messy and blissed out he must look. He isn’t even embarrassed about it. Loki is all he can taste and smell and feel, so who the fuck cares how much he’s drooling? “Letting me use you this way. Desperate, greedy boy…”

“Mmn,” Thor hums, perfectly content.

“Do you want more?” 

Can he take more? Probably not. Does he want to try anyway? 

“Mmmmph.” He can’t really nod, but he makes an attempt all the same.

Loki swears to himself. “You’ll be the death of me,” he mutters, and then louder, back in control again, “Deep breath, sweetheart.”

Thor does his best, in through his nose, and _shit_ , here it comes… Loki’s cock pressing again, harder, further—and there’s nowhere for it to go, Thor thinks, panicking. He didn’t think this through, at _all_ , and Loki’s pushing him down still—

He gags, eyes burning, and Loki immediately eases him back and off his cock entirely. “Easy, there,” he says. “Breathe.” 

That’s easy for _him_ to say, but Thor does feel marginally calmer after a few seconds, and relaxes his death grip on Loki’s thighs. Okay, so that didn’t go as planned, but he’s pretty sure he can do better. 

“Let me try again,” he says, voice low and rough, and after a long, appraising look, Loki gives him a nod and thumbs at his cheek. Brushing away an embarrassing tear track, Thor realizes, but Loki doesn’t mention it. 

“If you’re sure,” is all he says, and when Thor nods, “then stick your tongue out, as far as it will go, and relax your throat.”

Thor gags again this time, but only for a second, and Loki pauses to let him breathe through it before pressing on. Having his tongue out seems to help, but it doesn’t do anything for the brief moment of alarm when he realizes that Loki’s cock is actually in his throat, and that he can no longer breathe around it. It’s gone before he knows it though, just like the hissed _fuck_ that Loki lets out above him.

But Thor can work with that. He really, really can. Now that he knows he can do this, he’s determined to take everything that Loki can give him. 

He takes another breath and goes for broke, not waiting for Loki this time before swallowing his cock again, and oh, the swallowing helps, too. How about that. Loki fisting both hands in his hair is encouraging as well, along with the sudden tension in his legs, and Thor stays where he is as long as he can before he needs to breathe again. He’s got it now, though, and as soon as he dives back in for more, Loki takes over and presses even deeper into his throat. 

“God, you little nightmare,” Loki grates out, but with his nose buried in the coarse curls at the base of Loki’s cock and the entire length of it down his throat, Thor isn’t too offended. Especially not when Loki finds a rhythm that allows him to catch his breath every few thrusts and finally, fucking _finally_ thank _god_ , groans, “Oh, my good boy,” and leaves Thor a lightheaded, practically whimpering wreck. 

He makes a noise, something equal amounts pathetic and grateful, and Loki suddenly pulls back and holds Thor’s head still. For a moment, he thinks he may have been too embarrassingly needy with that shit and starts to worry, but then Loki thrusts against his tongue once, twice, and comes, flooding his mouth and gripping his hair just shy of too tight. 

_Oh_ , Thor thinks, dumbfounded at the taste of Loki’s come on his tongue. 

When Loki lets him go, he leans back on his heels and swallows it all, holding onto Loki’s knees to stay upright. That was… mildly life-changing, he decides, but before he can finish coming to terms with it, Loki grabs him by the shoulders and pulls, hauling him up out of the floor and into his lap. God, his knees are so sore, and there isn’t a whole lot of room for them both in the chair, but Thor straddles him as best he can and doesn’t get the chance to ask what this is about before Loki hauls him down for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss and licks the taste of himself out of Thor’s mouth. 

Thor hopes his devastated little whine can be excused considering the circumstances. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” Loki breathes against his lips after a good long while. He doesn’t sound too upset about it though, so Thor can’t help but give him a little grin, altogether pleased with himself—until Loki gets a firm grip on his own sad, neglected cock and wipes the smile from his face altogether. 

“Loki, _please_ ,” Thor gasps, and _shit_ , it’s too much all at once after all that waiting, and Loki’s kissing him again, his other hand grasping at Thor’s back and then his hair and his cheek while he pulls him off slow but steady and absolutely maddening… and god, he thinks he could drown like this, holding onto Loki’s shoulders for dear life, and wouldn’t that be the dumbest thing when he literally could have asphyxiated on Loki’s cock a minute ago. But he honestly can’t say that he would mind so much, not when Loki’s teeth catch on his bottom lip, or when he whispers, “Go on, sweetheart, come for me.”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to do as he’s told, and Loki holds him steady while he comes apart, groaning right along with him. 

It takes a long time for Thor’s head to clear and for him to catch his breath. 

… Had that really happened? 

His throat is burning, and his legs are aching. So. Yeah. It seems that way. Also, there’s a big wet spot on the front of Loki’s expensive-looking shirt. 

Woops.

“Sorry,” he slurs, and gives an uncoordinated nod downwards when Loki just stares at him, not comprehending. 

Loki glances down. “Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“This is my favorite shirt,” Loki says with a sigh.

Nah. 

“You don’t think so?” 

Oh, had Thor said that aloud?

“The floral one is better,” he clarifies when Loki does actually start to look perturbed. “The big leaves and the pink flowers? You know. Looks better on you.”

“Is that so.”

“Yep. It’s um. Hot. Really hot.”

“Charming.” Loki rolls his eyes and starts looking for something to wipe his sticky hand off with, but Thor sees the pink tinge in his cheeks and the barely-there smile, and counts it as a win. He’ll have to work on his compliments, but obviously Loki isn’t immune to them. It’s cute, he thinks, but doesn’t dare say that aloud. 

Instead, he says something else that he really should have thought about first. 

“So was this seriously supposed to discourage me from dropping in unannounced?” he asks, grinning. 

And Loki blinks at him, once, twice… and then dumps him in the floor. 

“Alright, get out,” he huffs, and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _fucking brat_ to himself on his way to the bathroom. Thor might be tempted to think he’s gone too far judging by his exasperated tone on its own, but then he catches a brief glimpse of Loki’s face in the mirror before he kicks the door shut after him, and the pleased look upon it.

Yeah. Thor’s counting it as a win. 

And he almost gets to keep his win, too. But just before he reaches the front door, dressed again and whistling to himself, Loki calls after him. 

“Oh, and Thor?” he says, leaning out of his bedroom door, his shirt presumably tossed in a laundry basket somewhere (and good fucking riddance to it, Thor thinks, mouth going dry). 

“Yeah?”

“I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow. Tell your mother I’ll bring dessert… but you probably ought to rinse your mouth out first, hm?” 

… Fuck. 

Loki’s pleasant little smile begins to look an awful lot like a smirk while Thor flushes up to his hairline—and he beats a hasty retreat, face burning.

Okay, so he may not have won, Thor thinks on his way down the front steps, but then again, it’s not like he really _lost_ either. 

And anyway, there’s always next time.

**Author's Note:**

> ❤️❤️❤️ Thanks so much for reading, and please do let me know if you enjoyed it! 😘
> 
> [on twitter here](https://twitter.com/woulduknowmore)


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